


Where's Derek?

by xtinapot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtinapot/pseuds/xtinapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is cursed for the third time, but Stiles doubts that the universe entirely hates Derek Hale because it seems intent in finding the person that loves Derek the most. If the universe truly hates someone, it's Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [The artwork that inspired this](http://torakodragon.tumblr.com/post/43944932480/mini-sterek)

     The abandoned toy store looks like a setting for a cliché horror movie. Thick cobwebs. Swinging light bulb casting animated shadows. Dismembered stuffed animals. The only missing element is the killer/monster that should attack Stiles while he keeps standing in the doorway and scanning the place with incredulity.

      It’s like the owner was baffled by what to do with the store after deciding to cancel his business so he just said “Fuck this” and boarded up the windows and chained the door, leaving all of the merchandise to collect dust inside.

      Stiles hopes the owner had move on to better things in life that required less decision-making skills.

      Why do the werewolves keep ending up in the weird places to reconvene anyway? Stiles once mended Isaac’s whole arm in a barn. Applying medicine to a gash so deep that Stiles saw Isaac’s tendons should not be done around neighing horses.                

      This time Stiles is surrounded by creepy teddy bears.

      There’s a distinct lack of blood though. The only guts spilling on the floor are made of cotton. There are also three bookshelves toppled over on top of each other. The damages look recent from the way the dusts around them are disrupted.

      Yes, Stiles’ life boils down to observing blood and dust patterns and knowing what his friends’ internal organs feel like in his hands.

      “We’re here, Stiles.”

      Stiles blinks, turning away from the staring contest he has going on with the giant decapitated head of a stuffed bear wearing purple tiara. He hitches the strap of his messenger bag more securely on his shoulder and follows Scott’s voice from the back of the room.

      He finds Scott, Isaac, Erica and Boyd near the corner where the cash register counter is shoved carelessly. No one looks gravely injured. Stiles turns to Scott, about to say he doesn’t know how to stitch teddy bear parts together but had a lot of practice with werewolves injuries, when Stiles notices Scott’s eyes.

      Even under the bleak light, Stiles can see how red and puffy they are. Stiles turns towards Isaac, who refuses to look up from where he is crouching down near Scott’s legs. Even Boyd avoids Stile’s gaze, resolute in staring at the ground with his usual stoic expression. His jaw is twitching though; the slow dance partner to Erica’s rapidly shaking shoulder.

      Erica is leaning on Boyd, her forehead pressing near his collarbone. Stiles looks around, wondering if he misses any signs of someone fatally wounded, kidnapped, or dying.

      His eyes lands on the heap of clothes on the floor, a familiar leather jacket on top. Stiles’ heart started doing its thing when he’s worrying, his chest tightening along with it.

      Stiles is just probably being suffocated by all the dust, that’s all.

      “Where’s Derek?” Stiles traitorous mouth says, coating the question with concern.

      No one answers, their silence amplifying the solemn atmosphere. Even Scott who still refuses to be part of Derek’s pack and barely tolerates Derek looks like he will cry again.

      Derek undressing wherever it’s convenient before shifting to his full Alpha form is normal. He hates visiting clothing establishment to the point of outweighing his need to be as dramatic as possible.

      Stiles suspects that if Derek’s healing abilities extends to his clothes, he’ll happily shift full-clothed, preferably with the clear night sky revealing a full moon as his background.

      “Okay,” Stiles drawls out the word. “Is he kidnapped again? Seriously, we should just embed a GPS tracker on him or something,” Stiles says, bending down to pick up Derek’s clothes to see what state they’re in.

      Stiles tilts his head, hand stopping before it could touch the collar of the leather jacket. Derek usually leaves a trail of clothes when undressing, flinging the clothes down, similar to the way he removed his shirt in Stile’s bedroom for Danny’s benefit.

      But the way these clothes are piled up, it’s like –

      “Are aliens real? Is Derek beamed up into their spaceship?” Stiles says.

      “Don’t be ridiculous, Stiles,” answers a familiar voice. A very _tiny_ , familiar voice from somewhere near Boyd.

      Erica says something, but Stiles only got the words _wait_ , _signal_ , and _dick_ because she’s laughing so hard on Boyd’s shoulder.

      Stiles is also too busy staring at the doll posing upright on the cash register counter near Boyd’s elbow.

      Stiles squints. That doll isn’t there before. Stiles would notice a toy like that because it looks like Derek, its face is scowling like Derek’s, and it’s –

      “Shut up, Erica.”

       – talking like Derek. “OH. MY. GOD.”

      Stiles chokes between trying to voice out his disbelief at their audacity to prank him and expressing his deepest hilarity at the sight of mini Derek.

      Mini Derek ™ is wearing a white shirt with an island printed on the front and a blue Hawaiian shorts, the scowl on his face as the perfect antithesis to the whole image.

      Stiles collapses over Derek’s clothing. He laughed until tears started forming around his eyes.

      When Stiles feels like he can breathe properly again, he waves a hand to Scott. Scott understands the gesture and pulls Stiles up.

       “Please tell me you at least have a video of Derek undressing a Ken,” Stiles says.

      “He’s already dressed like that when we arrived,” Isaac says.

      “I’m happy I’m causing so much amusement,” Derek says, his tone clearly meaning the opposite, “but can all of you start finding out how to reverse this spell.”

      “That depends,” Stiles says, kneeling in front of Derek so they would be eye-level of each other, “who did you piss of this time?”

      Stiles maintains a non-eye-poking distance, though.

      Derek’s tiny hand motions at something behind Stiles, his tiny, bushy eyebrows convulsing, and with his tiny voice, says, “Ask your stupid best friend.”

      Stiles would rather watch mini Derek do tiny things all night. But Derek’s been cursed twice before, and apparently a ‘weakened’ Alpha is an invitation for evil supernatural creatures to start terrorizing Beacon Hills.

      “Hey, I didn’t do anything,” Scott says. Stiles turns around to face Scott who is hunkering down beside Isaac. “You know I don’t like him, but I don’t want him like that. It won’t be fair to hit someone that small.”

      “Really? Did I just imagine you running after a kukuth?” Derek says, completely ignoring the last part of what Scott said. 

      “A what?” Scott says.

      Derek rolls his eyes.

       Stiles almost coos, because _tiny eye-rolling_.

      Focus, Stiles.

      “The creature you were chasing in the forest then here, that’s a kukuth.”

      “So the kuku-whatever cursed you to be a doll version of you? Wait, are you a doll or just a tiny werewolf right now? Are you made of plastic?” Stiles says, pointing a finger at Derek as if to touch him. Derek snarls.

      “No, it can’t curse me because it can’t use magic,” Derek says, almost growling it out. “Poke me and I’ll shred your finger so you can see how non-plastic my teeth are.”

      Stiles quickly retracts his finger, grinning. It’s actually getting hard to get a rise out of Derek these days. Getting cursed for the third time must be taking its toll.

      Stiles watches Derek’s eyebrows as he tries to smoothen his expression. It’s like two little star-crossed caterpillars trying to meet in the middle.

      God, Derek is more adorable like this.

       “So why’s it my fault?” Scott asks.

      “And how is it the kukuth’s fault if it can’t curse you? What’s even a kukuth?” Stiles says. He looks at Scott. “And why are you chasing it?”

      “I don’t know what it’s called but it’s terrorizing the elves and they can’t make it go away, so they take it out on the people that go in the park,” Scott says, indignant. “I have to do something.”

      “So,” Isaac says, scratching his chin. “Elves again?”

      “No, dude,” Scott frowns. “You’re with me when we talked to them, right? They said they’d give us 24 hours until we stop it or they will go back to hexing people.”

      “You talked to the elves?” Stiles put a hand each on Scott’s shoulder. “After they cursed Derek like, two months ago just because they can? I had a hard time looking for the best blackmail material to make them stop Derek from doing the Harlem shake every time he tries to speak,” Stiles said.

      It’s not what only happened, but the werewolves don’t need to know about it.

      Scott shrugs Stiles hands away. “Dr. Deaton’s the one who asked me to, and he told me not to make you go with me. He said you are blacklisted in the elven community,”            

      Stiles is aware of his pariah status in the elven society. The elves announced right into Stiles’ red face after they teased and laughed at him because of –

      Stiles presses his lips together.

      Anyway, is Deaton subscribing to a gazette for the supernatural community? Stiles imagines a news featuring “Blackmailing human Healer blacklisted by elves, turn to page 6 for the complete story”

      “They probably cursed Derek again to ‘motivate’ us and do their bidding faster,” Stiles says.

      “It doesn’t feel like elven magic,” Derek says, frowning.

       “Witch’s?” Erica says, still leaning on Boyd but facing all of them now.

      “No,” Derek says as his eyes bores on Stiles.

      Stiles stares back, almost getting cross-eyed doing it. Derek’s still suspicious about the story of how Stiles reversed the witch’s curse.

      Derek doesn’t believe that what it all took was talking to the teenage witch who casted the spell. Maybe Stiles should have embellished the story and included arm-wrestling because trusts Derek not to believe that something can be easy when it comes to his life.

      And that’s what makes it worse, because nothing is really easy when it’s about Derek Hale. Stiles would rather die than tell Derek the truth.

      No one knew except Stiles and Lydia, because it’s her idea in the first place. The only consolation about it is that Lydia wasn’t there when it happened.

      “You know, there’s an upside to always getting enchanted by magical beings. We can start cataloguing the differences and publish a book. Put a ‘based on firsthand experiences’ or something dramatic like that,” Stiles says, trying to come up with any subject change. “It’s actually easy. Your mere presence seems to offend the whole magical population.”

      “It’s because I’m the alpha.”

      Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek. “You really like saying that. You’re just saying that for the sake of it, right?”

      “It’s about the power, not the title,” Derek says, sounding like Deaton. “That’s why I’d rather stay under the radar. I wouldn’t even be in this mess if all of you stop looking for trouble.”

      “What?” Scott said, frowning when Derek keeps glowering at him. “It’s not my fault you’re like that. I didn’t even ask you to go after it. You’re always sticking your nose in whatever I’m – “

 

      “Because you’re a werewolf.  Even if you don’t want to be part of my pack, your actions are my responsibilities because I’m the only alpha in this town.”

      “But I’m not doing anything wrong,” Scott says, standing up.

      “Please continue, this is not like the hundredth time we heard this conversation,” Stiles says.

       Derek and Scott glares at him at the same time. “Oh, look, synchronized glaring, and we thought you can’t do anything good together.”

      “Can we go back to talking about how to make Derek normal-sized again? It’s almost one, and this is ruining my sexy time with Boyd,” Erica says, picking on her nails to emphasize the whole ‘I’m too important for this, you peasants’ effect.

      Everyone groans, except Boyd who grins toothily at them and Derek who sighs.

      _Mini_ _Derek who made a tiny sigh._  

      “You, start with why you’re not in our pack meeting,” Erica says, pointing at Isaac. “Oh, never mind, you were with _Scott_.”

      Cue Isaac blushing.

      “So, you, tell us about the elves’ in the park,” Erica says, pointing her perfectly-manicured finger at Scott.

      “What has that got to do with Derek?” Scott says.

      Erica lifts an eyebrow.

      Scott sighs, but relents and starts telling bout the discussion with the elves. Isaac helps when Scott seems confuse how to better translate the meaning behind the elves’ lyrical way of talking.

      (Stiles just knows that the elves are speaking like that to watch humans flounder around.)

       The gist of it is, the elves left their territory because another supernatural being squatted near it and started basking in their magic without them noticing until a week later.

      They can’t make it leave because their powers are useless against a creature who managed to tap into the magical bond between the elves and the Land.

      (Their claimed land absorbs their magic, like it’s taking roots. Elves can’t be harmed by anyone when they’re inside it. In return, the elves can’t harm the Land and will do anything to protect it. This is why they are so territorial in the first place. )

      They relocated in the park that morning to prevent more depletion of their magic, and apparently decided to pass the time by hexing people who ‘trespassed’ in their temporary home.

      “But, there are like, fifty of them,” Stiles says, horrified. “And it’s the park. Of course people go there.”

      “We only talked to three of them, and they said they won’t leave unless we help them get their land back,” Scott says.

      “They think that it’s our fault in the first place,” Isaac says. “They said that it was the friend of the ‘baby-blood sucker’ we killed last week.”

      Stiles mouth hangs open. “See, we told you the shtriga had a partner,” Stiles raises a fist in the air. “Lydia and I are so right; we should have made a bet or something.”

      The ‘baby-blood sucker’ is a shtriga. It’s a fanged vampire-like creature that feeds on infants’ and babies’ blood. It was sneaking inside the house of its victim but it shouldn’t be possible because it can’t enter someone’s house without the owner’s explicit permission. It’s not a shape shifter so it can’t disguise itself into anything but the ugly, green monster that it really is.

      The shtriga can form a bond with other creatures and gain its powers but if one of them dies, the other one will die, too.

      “But I thought it died along with the shtriga?” Scott said.

      “The death is probably gradual, so it hid somewhere where it can recover and counteract the effect of the severed bond,” Stiles says, shrugging. “Lydia and I stopped reading about it when we assumed the death would be instantaneous.”

      “It’s called a kukuth,” Derek said.

      Everyone is silent, staring at Derek, finally seeing the connection.

       “It feeds on misery. The more miserable the place is, the happier it gets,” Derek continues.

      Stiles is reminded of Dementors.

      “Is that why you recognized it? You know, misery loves company,” Stiles says.

      “I don’t think that’s what the saying meant,” Erica said, smirking.

      “Well, you know what I meant,” Stiles said, a hand gesturing wildly. “So that’s why it bonded with the shtriga? The whole town was practically mourning during the shrtiga’s attack.”

      A shrtiga’s bite is poisonous, and unless the correct antidote is given, the victims will die a week after being bitten. It hospitalized twenty kids and four infants in the span of three days. Stiles and Scott found out about it because of Mrs. McCall, who had returned home after her duty with bloodshot eyes.

      The antidote turned out to be its saliva as well. It should be harvested while the shtriga is dying. Lydia did the research, the werewolves did the killing, and Stiles, with the help of Deaton, concocted the antidote after testing and retesting it using the victims’ blood samples stolen in the hospital lab.

      “But are you sure it’s not the kukuth that cursed you?”

      “Yes.”

      “You didn’t even smell it or something last week, and now you’re the expert in the subject,” Stiles says. “Are you really sure?”

      “Yes, Stiles. I’m sure,” Derek says.

      “Maybe it found another partner already, you know, some creature that can use magic,” Isaac says.

      “Maybe this was an elaborate plan made by those elves.”

      Everyone gave Stiles an unimpressed look, even Boyd.

      “You hate them that much, huh?” Erica said, lifting an eyebrow.

      What? Stiles won’t put it past those obnoxious little fuckers to make someone smaller than them for the fun of it, even if it involves leaving the piece of land they are so possessive of.

      Okay, it sounds implausible if you put it like that.  

      “It’s alone. But whatever the cause is, it’s related to the kukuth because when I got here, it laughed and I started shrinking.”

      “It’s probably because he’s watching the mighty alpha turning into bite-size,” Stiles said.

       Finally, Derek starts making tiny, growling sounds.

      “And I’m gonna go and do my thing now so you can stop the growling. I’ll only be scared of you if I turned into a mouse or something.”

      Stiles scoops his messenger bag before he sees Derek’s glare, like Stiles haven’t seen it hundreds of times before in different angles, and in tonight’s case, size.

      Stiles pulls big, pink stuffed unicorn from one of the cabinets and drags it in the corner near Derek. He plops down his new hot pink cushion and opens his bag to look for the book about curses and enchantments that Deaton had lent Stiles three days ago.

      It’s time to do his mighty-morphin-research power.

      Stiles wishes he can call and asks Lydia to help him. She makes researching easier, asking the right questions to narrow down the search and has instincts about which information is more reliable than the others.

      Stiles likes his genitals intact though, so calling Lydia will remain as wishful thinking.

      The herbs, powders, and medical kit are inside the bag, but not the book. After carefully rummaging around the bag for what feels like an hour, Stiles admits defeat

      “Shit.” Stiles looks at Scott. “I think I forgot the book Deaton gave me in the Jeep.”

      “Should I get it?” Scott asks.

      “No, I just need you to look after my bag so Erica can’t - ,” Stiles cocks his head, remembering something. “Why didn’t you bring Derek to my room? I mean, you can haul his unconscious, bloody body to my bedr – house  but now that you can actually lift him with one finger, you chose to waste my Jeep’s gas.”

      “He can’t leave this dump,” Erica says. “And he refused to be carried around, he almost bit Boyd’s finger the first time he offered.”

      Stiles looks at the werewolves, confused. “Come again?” 

      “Yeah, we should have known better than to offer help,” Erica says, rolling her eyes.

      “I meant the first part.”

      “He can’t walk out of here. It was like watching someone walk through an invisible wall. He tried using the front and back entrance and the window, but he’s really trapped. We can all get out of here, though, unless you put him in your pocket, then you can’t, geez, boss, calm down, no one is going to actually do that,” Erica says, flipping her hair as Derek continues flashing his eyes red.

      “I think he also tried to look for a rathole but he returned scowling more than usual so that’s a no go, too,” Scott says, grinning.

      Stiles snickers.

      “I did not,” Derek says, crossing his arms around his chest.  Now that Stiles isn’t distracted by the looks and size of Derek’s muscles, the whole act is so juvenile.

      “You so did,” Stiles says. “Wow, so you turned tiny and can’t leave this creepy place. Makes me wonder why the kukuth didn’t just stay. You are practically his feast.”

      “You face is his feast,” Derek says.  Stiles almost expects Derek to stick his tongue out.

      It actually happened four times before. Stiles counts because he finds it endearing. Stiles admits he has a problem. That’s the first step in keeping sane when you develop a crush on Derek Hale.

      “Yeah, I’ll just go get my book while you think of a better response than that.” Stiles stands up and hands his bag to Scott.

      But when Stiles tries to walk out of the door, he can’t get his feet to cross the doorway. 

      He thrusts his hand out, but it flattens up instead of going through. Stiles palms the invisible barrier, spreading his hand. It’s like touching a very cold surface. He can feel the magic humming beneath his skin, faint but it’s there.

      Stiles should have felt it before when he entered the store. He felt creeped out, but he associated it with the store’s ambience.

      “Stiles, are you okay? I can hear your heartbeat from here,” Scott says, but his best friend’s voice is muffled by the buzzing in Stile’s ears.

      He quickly pulls his mobile from his jean’s pocket and pressed Lydia’s speed dial number.

      “Come on, Lyds. Wake up. Oh, thank god, yes, I know what time it is but Derek’s been cursed again and you know what happened with the last two times. You can stop laughing any moment now.”


	2. Chapter 2

      Lydia and Stiles becoming good friends is inevitable in Stiles opinion. After he had finally accepted that his plan to woo the girl of his dreams would never, ever succeed, he discovered that being friends with Lydia is a match made in heaven. Or hell, it depends in the situation, really. .

      After the whispered conversation on the phone in which Stiles summarized the situation in less than twenty seconds, Stiles returns at back of the room where the werewolves have gathered around on the floor, except Derek and Boyd.

      Boyd acts like it’s super comfortable leaning on the counter but Stiles knows that Boyd just doesn’t want to leave Derek’s side when his alpha is vulnerable.

      Stiles doesn’t comment on it though because with Boyd, you let a sleeping dog lie, or stand guard. Whatever.

       “Where’s the book?” Scott asks, holding the deck of cards Stiles put in his bag’s side pocket for situations like this.

      “I remembered I left it at Lydia’s place. She said she’ll just bring it here,” Stiles says, pulling his pink unicorn between Isaac and Scott.

      “Scoot over,” Stiles says to Isaac. Isaac moves closer to Erica with a pout.

      She puts an arm around Isaac. “Calling for reinforcement already?” Erica asks.

       “She should know what’s happening, anyway. She’ll get mad if she missed the opportunity to gloat and say ‘I told you so’ right in your faces.”

      An absolute lie because Lydia would rather get her beauty and genius sleep than gloat. She already knows she’s better than everyone else.

      “So, Snap while we wait for Lydia to curl her hair into perfection?” Stiles asks. “Let’s play the Woof version.”

      Erica kicks him.

 

* * *

 

     

      Lydia’s arrival is preceded by the sound of her heels. Even Stiles heard it in the middle of playing Snap.

      Stiles smiles, his relief palpable that even Derek, who’s still on the counter, gives Stiles a curious look.

      Stiles shrugs at Scott, turning to where Isaac and Erica have are looking.

      “Please spare my balls,” Stiles says.

      Lydia smiles; it’s as sweet as it’s deadly.

      “Don’t think so high of your balls, Stiles. You do know that there are nerves in our bodies that when pressed with precise pressure can manipulate your five senses,” Lydia says, looking down at them, literally.

      “You’re really mad, aren’t you?” Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes up at Lydia.

      “I have no idea why, especially when I’m surrounded by idiotic teenagers who are playing Snap while there’s a misery-sucking monster out there ready to create its favorite meal. Not to mention that the town’s alpha werewolf is indisposed at the moment,” Lydia says, still smiling like she didn’t just make them feel tinier than Derek. “I should be squealing from pure glee.”

      “Stop tickling my heart, seriously,” Stiles says because he has a death wish.

      Lydia rolls her eyes, throwing the book had asked her to get in his Jeep during their phone call. Picking locks is everyone’s specialty by now.

      Stiles tries to catch the book before it hits his head but only succeeds in elbowing Isaac’s shoulder who grunted in surprise, the book knocked to Scott’s lap.

      Stiles mutters an apology to Isaac and reaches for the book Scott is holding. He looks around and finds Lydia standing in front of Derek, who’s standing up again and trying to appear imposing.

       He’s like a kitten challenging a tiger. Stiles wants to cuddle him.

      Boyd, possibly by some hidden magical ability or ninja skills, procures a wooden stool and offers it to Lydia. She sits on it while looking at Boyd, eyes narrowed. Boyd shrugs.

      Stiles wonders if that’s a calculated move. It prevents Lydia from literally staring down at his Alpha in a way that won’t offend her.

      This is Boyd. Anything can be behind his actions. Or he’s just that nice.

      But he’s dating Erica for three consecutive months without much fanfare, aside from the occasional vomit-inducing PDAs. Boyd is most likely the type to overtake the world and the world won’t notice until everyone is paying their taxes straight to Boyd’s bank account for the last five years

      Stiles approves.

      Lydia and Derek are now conducting a silent conversation made of twitching eyebrows, moving shoulders, and a lot of eye contact.

      It’s fascinating to watch.

      Lydia raises an eyebrow. Derek returns it with a frown.

      “Close your mouth, Stilinski,” Erica says. “You’re making Scott and Isaac uncomfortable.”

      “No, I’m not,” Scott says, shaking his head but biting his lips and looking at the top of Stiles’ head.

      “What?” Stiles asks, confused. “What did I do?”

      “You’re drooling,” Isaac says, hiding behind his hands.

      “No, I’m not,” Stiles says, aware that his denial was as lame as Scott’s.

      “Find someone drool-worthy?” Erica says, almost leering at Stiles.

      “I admit Lydia looks hot in that dress, but that’s purely an aesthetic level of appreciation. Besides, we have a bro code, like with Scott’s. Scott’s hot, but I don’t think of him that way.”

      “Thanks, dude,” Scott says, patting Stiles’ knee. “You’re hot, too.”

      “What about the boss?” Erica said, full-on leering now.

      “Seriously, stop talking like that. No matter how much leather you wear and hush-hush this whole supernatural thing supposed to be is, we are not actually in a mafia.”

      “Babble all you want, Stiles,” Erica says, “We all know who you think when you touch your – “

      “Ohmigod, shut up. How can you even say those things? Who would even get turned on with someone that small – “

      Stiles stops when he catches from the corner of his eyes the way Lydia and Derek are watching him speak. Stiles groans, copying Isaac by hiding behind his hands.

      Someone pats his knee again, but Stiles is pretty sure that it’s Isaac this time. At least someone understands Stiles’ plight. 

      Stiles knows that Derek knows that Stiles has a crush on him. But like Scott with Isaac, Derek is choosing to ignore it, which is perfectly fine with Stiles.

      It’s just a simple crush, anyway. Whatever Lydia thinks, that’s all Stiles will acknowledge.

 

      The End.

 

      “Werewolves, with me. We are going to look for the kukuth before it finds another creature to bond over. Stiles, stay here with Derek,” Lydia says after a few minutes.

      Stiles’ head perks up from his hands, mouth hanging open.

      “Why?”

      Lydia gives him a “ _Really, Stiles?_ ” look.

      Oh. Right.  

      Stiles senses someone staring at him and he isn’t surprised to see Boyd. Stiles gives him a salute, trying to convey “I’ll take care of your Alpha boss, so stop eye-threatening me” in the gesture.

      Boyd only narrowed his eyes at him. Stiles grimaces.

      Scott sees Stiles’ distressed look. He pats Stiles’ shoulder in sympathy, probably thinking that if their roles are reversed, Scott will rather face an army of trolls by himself than watch over Derek.

       “Read the book Deaton gave you,” Lydia says, standing up from the stool and fixing her dress.

      “Where are we going?” Scott asks, already wolfing out. Isaac is looking at him from the floor with glazed eyes.

      Eww, Stiles closes his eyes. God, the things he wishes he can simply remove from his brain.

      “Considering the time, Derek thinks it’s in the hospital. I’ll go with you and see if we can get more information before you kill it.”

      Stiles follows them to the door, walking with Lydia. “I don’t think it’s the kukuth.”

      Lydia touches Stiles arm and stops walking before they reach the doorway, letting the werewolves pass by and giving them the illusion of privacy before saying, “I think it’s this place.”

      Stiles nods, “Yeah, the kukuth’s probably noticed this store while Derek, Scott, and Isaac were chasing it so it led them here. Derek’s the first one to get inside, so the curse is either laid as a trap for the first individual who step in here or intended for just one person. You know, this curse is like someone’s idea of a mean joke. Turn someone small in a toy store and trap them there.”

      “No, Stiles, it’s not the elves,” Erica says from outside. Someone sniggers, Stiles thinks it’s Isaac.

      “If they only know the real reason you hate the elves,” Lydia says, much to Stiles’ horror.

      “There’s actually a good reason?” Erica says, peering from the doorway. She looks ecstatic. “Going by the way Stiles’ turning into a tomato, that is prime information, Martin. Tell me.”

      Stiles wants to dive in the pile of action-figures in a corner.

      “Later, Reyes,” Lydia says, smirking. “Timing is everything.”

      “Is this the plan? Make me feel more miserable so you can lure the kukuth here?”

      “Don’t be overdramatic,” Lydia says. “Just get your head out of your ass, Stiles. Remember the cure to the witch’s spell? Maybe it’s applicable every time Derek gets cursed.”

      Lydia turns around, leaving Stiles wearing an expression that makes Erica laugh.

      This is the instance that friendship with Lydia Martin is planned by Satan himself.

      All of them are gone by the time Stiles’ brain functions properly again. He goes back to his pink unicorn.

      “What do you think is my chance of not getting cursed if I bring this stuffed toy home with me?” Stiles says, wriggling around on the soft cushion.

      “What really happened with the witch’s curse?” Mini Derek says, showing his impressive one-tracked mind and his opportunistic side.

  

* * *

 

_One Month Ago_

_“You did what and the cure is what?” Stiles asks, almost hysterical._

_“I didn’t mean to. He’s such a douche. I was just trying to flirt and he embarrassed me in front of my friends,” Chloe the teenage witch says._

_“But,” Stiles clears his throat, “Are you sure there is no other way to remove it? Other than…that.”_

_“I’m sorry, but it’s the only way, Healer Stilinski,” Chloe’s mother says, and seeing Stiles pained expression, quickly adds, “This is not a personal affront to the Alpha. Please be assured that we will punish Chloe for this, but don’t hold this against the entire coven.”_

_“I didn’t know he’s the Alpha,” Chloe said, trying to sound indifferent but her flushed cheeks says otherwise. “Besides, with his looks, that should be an easy cure.”_

_Her mother gives her a sharp look, which Chloe returns with a glare of her own._

_Teenagers._

_“Yeah, but his personality totally cancels it out. I mean, imagine this,” Stiles holds out his hands, palms facing each other but a ruler apart, “as his – “_

_“Dick?”_

_“Mother of – “_

_“Oh my god, his looks,” Stiles says, screaming the words and quickly shoving his hands to his jean’s pockets because Chloe’s mother looks like she’s ready to throttle someone, Stiles isn’t sure who at this point. “I’m just showing you how much wider his douchiness is, but never mind.”_

_“The point, sweetie,” Lydia says, intervening before Stiles embarrasses himself further. Stiles gives her a grateful look. “You shouldn’t hex people just because they don’t return the attraction. Especially if your skill is as inept as your flirting. What if you had hit him with a fatal spell?”_

_Chloe turns red._

_“This is very inconvenient for the Alpha and his pack. I expect someday a favor can be asked of you in return,” Lydia says, flipping her hair._

_Chloe’s mother opens her mouth, closes it, and then says “Of course.”_

_Lydia and Stiles’ left Chloe’s house in a mixture of triumph and defeat._

_“Did I really hear that correctly?” Stiles says._

_Even Lydia looks worried._

_“Fuck,” Stiles presses his forehead at his Jeep’s steering wheel. “Where will we even find someone who can give Derek a ‘true-love kiss’? I feel like we’re his freakin’ fairy godparents.”_

 

 

      “I told you, we talked to the witch who cursed you and her parents made her reverse it,” Stiles says.

      “Yeah, and you’re lying, you lying bag full of liars,” Derek says, pulling the dark blue small cushion that Stiles suspects Boyd strategically placed there before leaving.

      Derek plops on it, stretching out like he was on his loft’s sofa and looking at Stiles like he was just watching T.V.

      “Why are you even like that when no one is around? That is so annoying, no one believes me when I say you’re like that sometimes,” Stiles points a finger at Derek.

      Derek grins.

      Stiles will swoon if it’s not made of pure malice.

  

* * *

 

_“Look at that idiot, sleeping there without a care in the world,” Stiles says, watching Derek snore in his bed._

_“He’s in an enchanted coma, Stiles.”_

_Lydia sits on the computer chair, crossing her legs and putting her hands together above her knees like she’s about to announce her world domination plan._

_“If we find the person who can give him the ‘true-love’s kiss’, I’ll mock him about it forever,” Stiles says, pulling out his phone and taking a picture of Derek drooling on his pillow. “Oh, look at that, our very own Snow Wolf, waiting for his prince’s kiss.”_

_“So you think he’s gay, Lydia says, “Or, at least bi,”_

_Stiles almost drops his phone._

_“Huh?”_

_“You said his prince’s kiss,” Lydia says, her eyes glinting._

_“I meant, in the fairytale it’s a prince, right?” Stiles says. “Okay, so, it should be a princess now, a princess’ kiss.”_

_Lydia gives him a knowing look. “Call Erica. Ask her if Derek is dating someone.”_

_Stiles laughs, but stops short when he sees how serious Lydia is. “But he’s not seeing anyone.”_

_“Are you sure?” Lydia says, and takes Stiles silence as ‘no’. “Derek isn’t capable of hiding something like that from Erica. Call her.”_

_Stiles just knows that Derek’s not dating anyone. Something wants to lash out in Stiles’ chest at the thought. He ignores it, his thumb already pressing Erica’s speed dial number._

_“Hey, Erica, hello, hi, so, uhm, is Derek dating anyone?”_

_There’s a brief silence before Erica laughs, and laughs. It’s so loud Stiles has to pull the phone away from his ear. She’s still laughing when she hangs up like a minute later without even saying a word._

_“That answers it,” Stiles says._

_“You’re smiling.”_

_“It’s really kind of funny. What do you want me to do, weep for Derek’s singlehood?”_

  

* * *

 

 

      “Why aren’t you telling me what you did to reverse it? Is it embarrassing? Illegal? Did you have to kill small animal as sacrifice to a ritual?”

      “Shut up, Derek.”

      God, this is like some lame role reversal.

      Stiles opens Deaton’s book.

      “Did you dance under the moonlight with my naked body in a circle that is made of powdered remains of squirrels?”

      Stiles bashes his head on the book. “No ritual happened, okay? Naked or otherwise. Nothing illegal. No bloodshed, either. Why can’t you just accept what I told you?”

      Derek doesn’t answer. Stiles goes back to reading the book.

      “I just,” Derek clears his throat, sitting up. “You’re not easily embarrassed, probably because you do a lot of embarrassing things.”

      “I don’t know why you think insulting me is a good strategy in convincing me to confess, which is futile anyway because there’s nothing to confess about.”

      “So, when you’re like that,” Derek continues, like Stiles is a silent listener, “Like you did something terrible, and it’s because you’re just helping me, I want to know what it is. Share the burden of the knowledge, something like that.”

      Stiles blinks.

      “Bullshit,” Stiles says. “You know I’m hanging out with Lydia every day. She’s practically a walking, talking emotional-manipulation in two shapely legs. I’m used to it. Mostly.”

      Derek sighs, lying down again.

      After a few minutes, he says, “It’s true, though.”

      Stiles lifts the book to cover his face.

      “I know,” he whispers, sure that Derek hears it.

      

* * *

 

 

      _“Kiss him,” Lydia says, 24 hours later._

_It’s a miracle his Dad hasn’t find out yet that a former murder suspect is sleeping in his son’s bed. Especially when Stiles decided to sleep beside Derek, because where else will he sleep?_

_Stiles pauses from scanning his Ipod playlist. “Are you requesting for a song? Is it the song by One Direction I hear everywhere?”_

_“Stiles,” Lydia says, making his name sounds like a warning._

_“No.”_

_“Remember the elves?”_

_(Of course, he remembers the elves. That’s one month ago, too early to forget how they cursed Derek just because Derek made a wrong turn and entered their land territory. It’s almost overlapping with the Hale property anyway._

_The elves have been looking for an excuse to curse Derek._

_And Derek doing the Harlem shake is not good for his sanity so he set out to find a way for the elves to take back the curse._

_Stiles found out a record in one of the books which had survived the Hale house fire that half of the elves’ land belongs to the Hales. Stiles confronted the elven leader and their council about it._

_Stiles told them that unless they remove Derek’s curse, Derek, being a Hale and therefore half the land’s real owner, can sever the magical bond between the elves and the Land, reducing the size of their community._

_The elves got angry, telling him that he has no right to threaten them because he’s not a Hale. Then the elven leader dramatically gasped and gathered his council around him. They talked quietly for a few moments, and to this day, Stiles swears they were speaking regularly like humans._

_Then the elven leader grudgingly said, “So you do have the authority, the one whose red thread to the alpha’s heart intertwines. Leave now, for your wish is already satisfied.”_

_Stiles gaped, wondering if he misheard the small guy with silver beard. The elves laughed at his expression, one of them said, “He doesn’t know, veiled by denial.”_

_“What?” Stiles managed to croak out._

_“Leave, human, and you can never return even if you seek out the Land.”_

_The elves vanished, most of them still snickering. When Stiles returned to Derek’s loft, he was talking to the mailman without scaring him off with the grumpiest Harlem shake in existence. It  had happened to the poor garbage collector yesterday._

_Derek sensed him, turning his head to Stiles direction._

_Derek smiled at Stiles._

_Stiles couldn’t help smiling back)_

_“As far as I’m concerned, the elves are being their usual dickish selves.”_

_Lydia shakes her head, “I’m not asking you to confess your feelings, Stiels. Just give him a peck on the lips.”_

_“No,” Stiles repeats, going back to his Ipod._

  

* * *

 

     

      “I’ll tell you why the girl cursed me and you’ll tell me how you reversed the witch’s curse,” Derek says.

      “No,” Stiles answers absently. The book’s contents are not arranged by the type of spells and curses but by the magical being who casts it. Stiles skips the chapter about witches and elves, looking for ghosts or haunted places. There’s no Table of Contents or Index to help him.

       “Erica forced me to go shopping with her,” Derek says, pronouncing ‘shopping’ like it’s the embodiment of his nightmares, “Then three teenagers approached me. One of them asked if the dress she’s holding looks good, I said – “

      “No, stop, Derek, I did not – “

      “ – anything looks great on me.”

      “ – agree to this what the – Did you just admit that you told to a teenage girl that the dress she’s going to try on looks great on you? “

      Derek nods solemnly. Stiles laughs

      Derek waits for Stiles’ laughter to dissipate before saying, “Your turn.”

      “You shared that on your own. Thanks, but there’s nothing for me to tell you,” Stiles says.

      “I’ll tell you why the elves really cursed me, and you’ll tell me – “

      “I’m not playing that game, Derek,” Stiles says, exasperated.

      For a few seconds, they stare at each other until Stiles can’t handle the friendly mood between them. Something suspiciously like hope and longing are springing from his chest, and Stiles hates false hope. He looks down back at his book.

      “Help me here,” Stiles says, “Describe as accurately as possible the sensation before, while, and after you are shrinking.”

      Stiles expects Derek to return to his surly mood and not answer but he hears Derek let out an impatient noise. Derek starts answering.

 

* * *

 

_“Stiles, is Derek still asleep?” Scott asks, two hours later after Lydia asked him to kiss Derek and he refused._

_Lydia already left. She said she’ll be back later and expects Stiles to find another person who thinks and breathes Derek more than Stiles._

_“Enchanted coma,” Stiles says, “Is Deaton back yet? Derek hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday. How long can werewolves go without eating? We should experiment and starve you to see – “_

_“The trolls are back, with reinforcement. I didn’t know how but they know about Derek in a coma,” Scott says. He’s breathing hard over the phone, like he came from running._

_The trolls challenged Derek and his pack months ago, and no matter how Stiles, Scott and Lydia deny being part of Derek’s pack, it seems like everyone in the supernatural world thinks otherwise so the challenge extended to them as well._

_It’s a fight for the ‘bragging rights’, according to the trolls. They’re not sore losers, though. They went away after Team Beacon Hills wiped all their faces on the school’s floor._

_“Are they stupid?” Stiles says. “It’s broad daylight. Do they want the entire police force on them?”_

_“They are hanging out in the Hale property.  They’ll wait for us in school at midnight, again. I hate fights like this, Stiles.”_

_Stiles almost doesn’t hear what comes after the words Hale property._

_Because Stiles is pissed._

_Derek demolished the Hale house to build a memorial site instead. It’s a simple memorial wall made of black granite with images of wolves carved at the center and at the top is the Hale family crest._

_Isaac planted flowers around it._

_Stiles will obliterate those trolls if they so much as steps inside the five hundred-meter radius of it._

_“I know, buddy,” Stiles says, because Scott is expecting an answer. “Give me five minutes  and I’ll call you again. I’m just…going to do something.”_

_Stiles ends the call before Scott can reply. He’s already kneeling beside his bed, looking down at Derek. Stiles removed the leather jacket last night. It feels uncomfortable sleeping next to someone wearing it. Derek is wearing a gray Henley, his collarbones peeking out from it._

_He bends down, and the kiss is over in 0.005 seconds._

_Derek stirs, his arms stretching over his head._

_Stiles scrambles away from the bed until his back hits the wall, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open._

_Stiles stands up and runs downstairs as fast as he can. He gets inside the Jeep, and only realizes he’s still clutching his phone when it hinders his hand from reaching in to his jean’s pocket to get his keys._

_He drives without a destination. When his phone rings, Derek’s name flashes on the screen and Stiles almost crashes his Jeep into a post._

_He waits for the ringing tone to end before texting Derek about the troll situation and to meet them in the Hale property. Then Stiles sent a message to Scott telling him to gather everyone in the Hale property because Derek is awake again._

 

* * *

 

      “A haunted toy store, for real,” Stiles says, thumping a hand on the book.

      “I thought it says an enchanted place holding the grudge of someone?” Derek says, smiling.

      Mini Derek smiling at him.

      Probably because of Stile’s expression. Stiles closes his mouth.

      “It’s basically the same,” Stiles says, a hand flapping wildly. “Dude, you take me to the weirdest places.”

      “I try,” Derek says. “So, how do you remove it?”

      Stiles scratches his head. “Uh, you find the one who holds the grudge? It doesn’t say exactly that, though.”

      “What does it say exactly?”

      “Find the one who made the curse and fulfill the condition behind it,” Stiles recites from the book.

      “What condition?” Derek says, his crossed legs swinging. Stiles is distracted by Derek’s tiny feet since Derek starts doing that.

      Stiles has an inkling that it involves the words ‘love’ again. He has no plan to share that, though, so he lies.

      “I have no idea. Maybe that’s why we need to talk to the one who cursed this place,” Stiles pulls his phone, thinking about asking Scott to get his laptop from his room. “Still no update from what’s happening with the kukuth.”

      “I think this store has been closed for a decade,” Derek says, frowning. “We should find the owner first.”

      “We should, but we can’t leave the place,” Stiles said, scrolling down his inbox. His father sent him a message about not going home until noon. But he already has the night shift, Stiles protests darkly to himself.

      “We?” Derek asks.

      “Huh – What we?”

       “You said we can’t leave the place.”

      “Oh, I mean, you can’t leave therefore I can’t leave because Lydia says so,” Stiles says, quickly.

      “Stiles,” Derek says.

      “I should really stop hanging out around people who uses my name like a warning.”

       “You know you can leave, right? No one is forcing you to be here,” Derek says, trying to sound indifferent but looks like he’s enduring a toothache. Fang-ache?

      “No one is forcing me to be here,” Stiles says. If you disregard the whole cursed by association thing, that is.

      “So,” Derek says, “You and Lydia, huh.”

      Stiles blinks, and blinks, and blinks. Because, what?

      “What?”

      “I’m just making a conversation,” Derek says, sliding down to the counter’s surface. He stands up and lies down again.

      “Are you sure you’re trying? Because I’m tempted to just sit here and silently contemplate my life choices,” Stiles says, nervous for some reason. “Where did that even came from?”

      “Nowhere,” Derek says, sliding again but doesn’t pick himself up. “Just go back to reading the book.

      “Okay,” Stiles says. “But just so we’re clear and not to repeat this embarrassing attempt of small talk, Lydia and I are as bros as Scott, okay?”

      Derek doesn’t answer. He stands up again and goes back to lying down on his cushion, looking at Stiles again with a hint of smile. Or maybe Stiles is getting sleepy and hallucinating.

      Stiles stops himself from grinning. He imitates Derek, sliding down on his pink unicorn.

      It’s actually kind of fun to do. He doesn’t push himself up again though. He stays like that, the stuffed toy supporting half of his body.

      Stiles props the book on his knees, not really trying hard to understand what he’s reading.


End file.
